Heiress in Red Silk, Hunter, Madeline [good beach reads TXT] 📗

are all leather bound and very handsome. This group here includes the usual poets and philosophers, along with a nice selection of more recent writings.”

He removed one mahogany-hued tome and placed it in Rosamund’s hands. She did not pay much attention to the fine leather binding or the perfectly worked letters on the spine. She opened it reverently, paused a long time at the engraved frontispiece, then turned a few pages.

She asked the price.

“These are only sold together.” Mr. Lackington eyed the shelves. “Just over fifty titles, in matching custom bindings of superior quality. Let us say twenty-five pounds. We do not dither, so I request no less be offered. Our prices are indeed as cheap as we say. Purchasing these same books at auction would be at least twice as much.”

Kevin had spent the time perusing the titles. Rosamund caught his eye with a question in hers. He nodded.

“I will have them,” she said. “Can they be delivered?”

“Of course.” Mr. Lackington slipped her banknotes into his waistcoat pocket, then placed a little card on the shelves. “They will arrive early tomorrow. It has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I don’t see why he assumed I would offer less,” she said after she and Kevin took their leave.

“Because he thought you were about to. Were you?”

“Yes, but he couldn’t know that for certain.”

“He was not treating you any differently than he would treat me. Everyone haggles in bookshops. It is commonplace. Hence he reminds his patrons of his policy before they try.”

“They are very impressive books, I will admit. Even the paper was beautiful. I may just sit with one on my lap, even if I am not in the mood to read. Although the one he handed me was full of poems, and I think I’ll try a few of those.”

They had returned to the street level. “Are we finished here?”

She strolled away. “Perhaps a few novels . . .”

* * *

“I may have overdone it.” Rosamund voiced her misgivings while removing her bonnet in the reception hall of her house. “Do I have to have all the other books I bought bound to match that set of them?”

Kevin was watching her movements with the bonnet, as if the simple act was a revelation to him.

“If you want to, any bindery can do it. If you don’t want to, just shelve them as they are. In the future, you can purchase new ones with no binding, and have them bound however you choose.”

She led him into the library. “You must think me unbearably ignorant, not to know such simple things.”

He took her hand and drew her closer. “You are very worldly in those things you know about. However, you are refreshingly honest regarding what you don’t know. I think that is charming.” He gave her a small kiss. “Adorable.” He gave her a fuller one. “It is a type of innocence. I also find that I enjoy teaching you.”

“I don’t think you are talking about books now.”

“How suspicious you are.” He began to embrace her, but the sound of the door opening had her jumping back.

Her lone footman presented himself and informed her that dinner would be at six o’clock. She sent him away. Kevin pulled out his pocket watch.

“I suppose you want that dinner,” he said.

“It was a special request on my part.”

He accepted that, but she guessed he could think of better things to do. He ambled around the library, but paused at the writing table. “When did these calling cards come?” His fingers spread them out.

“There were some when I returned from Paris. Two more were left yesterday. I feared I would be cut if I moved here, but instead, my neighbors are being very accepting. I suppose I should call on some of those ladies, to be polite.”

“Some are not neighbors, or even ladies.”

“A few men who have shops near mine have been calling at mine to welcome me.”

“One of them has a shop on The Strand. He came quite a way to welcome you. The pursuits have begun.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is a useful ruse for these men. No need for a relative to first make your acquaintance, then provide an introduction. In the name of business, they can introduce themselves.”

“Perhaps they just wanted to be friendly.”

“If I were a haberdasher on Oxford Street, I would want to be very friendly with a beautiful heiress who opened a shop nearby.” He tapped those cards. “You will discover that none of these men are married.”

She wanted to accuse him of being suspicious, but he was probably right. Mrs. Ingram had said much the same thing. Only “beautiful” had nothing to do with it. Her fortune made her attractive enough. Those ladies had probably called on her for the same reason. She was not appropriate for their male relatives, but if word of her inheritance had become known, some would swallow their pride and take the necessary steps.

Unless the women were in Kevin’s family.

“I think you should come sit with me,” she said. “A few more kisses before dinner would be nice. I thought about little else all day.”

* * *

He tasted little of the meal. His plate filled and emptied and his fork moved to his mouth, but he barely noticed. His attention remained on Rosamund instead.

Their kisses in the library had aroused him to the point of making dinner a chore. He watched her eat, and every bite, every chew and nibble, carried erotic implications. He imagined her naked on this table, amid her new china, and taking her in multiple ways, half of which would undoubtedly shock her.

“You mentioned next steps,” she said. “Twice I have asked what you meant, only to have you ignore my questions. Don’t you plan on telling me what they are?”

Had she asked about that during dinner? He vaguely recalled a light string of small talk that he barely heard.

She delicately spooned some custard into her pursed mouth. He watched the spoon penetrate her lips, and her